You and I
by Icecubey
Summary: "Wherever we end, it started with 'you and I'." A series of oneshots exploring all the corners of Puzzle/Blindshipping. Ratings and genre will vary. R&R.
1. Concessions

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

This is the first in a series of oneshots exploring all the corners of Puzzleshipping (and maybe Blindshipping) that seem interesting to me. Most of these are the result of prompts; I'll post them in the AN when that's the case.

Just a fair warning, not everything will be romance, but it will all be about Yugi and Yami (Atem).

Okay without further adieu :]

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Prompt: (post-canon, but spin it how you'd like) Atem thinks there are cultural differences between them that Yugi wouldn't understand.

Writing music for this chapter: "Song for Jesse" from **The Assassination of Jesse James**

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**Concessions**

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"Excuse me."

He muttered it so quietly he was unsure that anyone had heard him. Yugi's attention was the captive of the fruit store clerk and this was his only opportunity to slip away. He could not have left the boy with any modicum of attention on him – the heartbroken woe in his eyes would have rendered Atem immobile.

He had never seen so many people in the Mutou household, and it was awkward dodging around the loosely formed line to reach the base of the stairs. His bewildered gaze lingered on them even as he climbed; only when they were out of sight did he turn his eyes frontward and duck into their bedroom.

Only now, when he was assured that there was no one watching, did he let out his pent up breath, allowing the disgust to force his brow down and grit his teeth.

In the two years that they'd shared a body, Yugi had never attended the funeral of an acquaintance. Mourning and burials had never been brought up, and Atem, then a spirit, had never needed to ask about them. Certainly, there had been many times where Japanese tradition diverged wildly from the Egyptian, but without memories, it had never mattered; Atem had not had the benefit of knowing the difference.

He clenched and unclenched his fist, thinking of the scene one floor below. Since early afternoon, there had been a paltry throng of people dressed in black shuffling through the house. The side entrance that no one ever used save for the family had been immaculately cleaned and jammed open for the mourners to enter by. The couch and chairs in the living room had been pushed out of the way, lining the walls; the TV had been banished to their room, sitting on the floor unplugged. He had stood, watching with detached interest as the funeral officiates had come into the house that morning, speaking in solemn, hushed tones that uttered line after line of _kimarimonku_*_. _They had then proceeded to assemble the altar in the cleared-out space. Yugi's mother had stood beside him, and he offered an arm when she leaned against his shoulder, exhausted and frayed around the edges. Yugi would not watch them.

When the altar had been erected, they'd discreetly approached Ms. Mutou and she'd pulled away from him, turning him a look that was both grateful and beckoning; he hadn't known what it meant at the time. He trailed after them like a curious child, brows furrowed as they climbed the stairs. When they stopped outside of Sugoroku's bedroom, he'd felt his body chill. One look from Yugi's mother pushed him back into motion as he ducked past them, leaning into their door and pushing it open, sliding in through the smallest crack possible. There were no words exchanged when he sat on the bed and without prompting, Yugi climbed into his arms and pressed his wet face into Atem's neck.

He'd held his boy tightly as the shuffling in the hallway wrenched sobs from his chest.

Standing in the room now, alone, he growled at the memory. He had been vigilant from the moment they'd discovered Sugoroku still in his bed two nights ago. It had been a shock, and no one had jumped to action. Yugi's mother alternated between frenzied movement and lethargy; she sat at her father's side, stroking his peaceful face.

Yugi would not speak, though he seemed desperate to try; no matter how he worked his jaw however, words had not come. He had rarely let go of Atem's hand since that night.

But when time did finally begin to move again, Yugi's mother had disappeared to the first floor and when she returned, she had a small business card and the cordless phone.

From the next morning, they'd shuffled between the funeral home and the house, preparing rituals that Atem was completely blind to. They seemed utterly unconcerned with gathering supplies for Sugoroku's tomb, and no one had brought up the location of the burial monument. How could they ensure that there was a satisfactory tomb waiting if they spoke to no one but this funeral director?

He understood now, of course. There was no tomb; they had not even deigned to mummify the man properly. From what he'd seen, they hadn't taken any measures at all. The man would be helpless in the afterlife.

At some point the day prior, Anzu had been at the house and seeing his complete confusion, had pulled him aside and tried to explain their practices to him. She'd detailed how the families chose the location of the wake, and then prepared the altar; how they dressed the deceased and made arrangements for the days after the "wake" and "funeral".

He roused himself to attention when he realized he'd kicked the desk chair. The room was so still that it was not hard to hear the low murmur of voices wafting up the stairs. He pulled the chair out, sitting in it heavily, grimacing as the jacket of his suit pulled taut over his shoulders. He leaned forward, elbows to knees and held his head.

Sugoroku had been a blessed constant in his life. In his time as a spirit, the man had always been sympathetic and unquestioning, helping whenever he could with their latest peril. He'd been a source of great comfort when he felt alienated; he had been the one man who understood the world Atem had been birthed by, knew the customs that dictated behavior that occasionally bewildered his friends. Yugi was always willing to learn, to bridge the innumerous gaps between them, but that was no substitute for someone who understood unconditionally. After he'd been granted his new life, Sugoroku had been ambassador between himself and Yugi's mother; he had smoothed the transition of Atem's life into the living world more wholly than he realized.

He had never thanked the man enough. Now he never could.

And in lieu of thanks, he had to watch as they desecrated his memory by showing him none of the respect he was due. He had loved the man, just as Anzu, Jou and Honda had, but he could only stand by and watch as the strange customs of a Japanese burial unfolded around him.

It was infuriating and sad at once. This man that had sheltered him and trusted him when the world would have run in fear of the unknown would never see the Field of Reeds – not like this.

And most frustrating of all was that he could not tell Yugi. The boy was completely undone, so bereaved that he could barely help his mother in the funerary arrangements. They'd lain awake late the last two nights; their bodies had twisted together, and he'd whispered about nothing in particular into the boy's ear for hours until he could sleep, because silence only beckoned back reminders of what had transpired, and it would send Yugi into untethered grief all over again.

Yugi would not understand his frustration; he could barely handle himself. They had been attached at the hip since that evening; Yugi refused the company of everyone who offered save for himself, his mother, Jou, Anzu and Honda. When the trio_ was _there, he would still insist that Atem was beside him, holding his hand and speaking for him when he lost the will.

And he had no right to expect empathy of his partner, because he'd been in his shoes once. In a time that still sometimes felt like a dream, he had buried a father too-young, and the memory of that grief still shook him from sleep at night. He could not ask understanding from the one person who would walk with him until death parted them, because it was Yugi's turn to be the consoled. And truly, Atem would always choose his own discomfort over Yugi's, no matter the cost to himself.

He was alone.

_No one_ would understand. The one person who had successfully blurred the line between his time and the modern day with little effort lay dead in a cedar box, waiting to be burnt to ash (much to Atem's horror). And he could not share his dismay with anybody.

He had hoped he would never feel this isolation again, but it was there, the ice crawling up his spine, leeching into his cells and leaving his palms clammy and frozen.

Sugoroku was dead, and he could not mourn him in the only way he knew how. And that was enough to light the burn of tears – because this mourning ritual only came once.

There would be no second chances this time.

"Here you are."

He kept his head still so she would not see the positively seething look on his face. Anzu had worked harder than anyone in the last two days to help him understand the mystery of this time and place's customs, but he needed solitude, if only for five minutes. He grunted his acknowledgement.

He could hear her uneasy shifting, and then a heavy sigh. The sentiment was achingly familiar.

And then she said the magic words.

"I know this is really difficult for you, but Yugi needs you down there."

And his heart constricted painfully, because he couldn't bear the thought of sitting before the silent string of murmuring Japanese seniors bowing to an altar that was blasphemous in its lack of splendor and riches, in the meager offering of white rice as sustenance for Sugoroku's journey through the afterlife, in the cedar box that was his coffin, in _every single aspect_.

But Yugi was enough to trump all of that. So he rose, nodding and drawing a deep, stabilizing breath – he had done more difficult things in his very long existence.

They trudged back down the stairs, Anzu leading. In her gentle, mothering way, she whispered intrusion on the line of mourners and made a gap with her hands, letting Atem slide through and around the throng to re-enter the living room. He ignored the stares, and the whispered Japanese about why there was a foreigner who looked so much like Sugoroku's grandson there; some people still took his tan skin as a sign that he would not understand their tongue.

There was a robed man standing to the side of the living room that he hadn't seen before.

Anzu's voice was soft in his ear.

"That's the priest who is going to read the sutras for the wake service." She paused, and he imagined her weighing her words. "…Yugi started to lose it when he came in. I don't think he's going to make it through the service without everyone there."

Atem nodded as his eyes drifted back to the black-clothed mass and the altar drawing them in. The cedar coffin sitting ahead of the altar with its glass window almost brought back his grimace, but he held the urge.

He slid back into his seat in the empty space beside Yugi, lowering into the traditional kneel that he still had trouble with; his feet would be numb before long. As the owner of the art shop from across town bowed in parting to Yugi and the slight boy bowed back, Atem turned to look at his partner, knowing he'd sense his gaze.

Yugi turned his head and his eyes were desperate and relieved, red from tears he was trying very hard not to loose; they both leaned in and their foreheads pressed together, noses discreetly nuzzling in comfort. Atem felt the boy's fingers slide back into his, and he tightened his grip.

He reigned his grief and his disgust, and felt them lodge somewhere in his throat.

Yugi would never understand, and it did not matter.

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決まり文句 (_kimarimonku_) - set phrase; Japanese has an overabundance of these that are strictly dictated by interlocutor and occasion


	2. One Week

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

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Prompt: (Season 0 or early Season 1) Yugi thinks he can never have any real privacy.

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**One Week**

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The first incident occurred the night they returned from Duelist Kingdom.

_She jumped as a hand ghosted across her upper arm, making her spin to face the other end of the couch. A relieved breath tumbled from her lips, shoulders falling with startled laughter._

"_Oh god, you surprised me!"_

Yugi shut the door to the washroom, slipping the towel in-hand over the bar beside the tub room door. He could still smell the broth simmering for his mother's favorite _nikujaga_ recipe. A night like this called for comfort food; they had made it back, in one piece no less, and all his mother knew was that he and his grandfather seemed very, very tired.

She was better off not knowing what had happened on the island.

He went through the mechanical motions of undressing, mind still on dinner; something about his mother's pot roast always made a bad day a little better.

Clothes banished to the hamper tucked between the sink and the washing machine, he pulled open the tub room door and stepped in, sliding it closed behind him. Flipping the faucet from spigot to shower head, he turned the water nozzle, hissing as perfectly heated 39 degree Celsius water poured onto his head.

"What are you doing?"

Yugi wasn't sure how loudly he screamed, but he hoped his mother hadn't heard. He whirled around, investigating the source of the voice – and there he stood, err, floated. The spirit of the Puzzle hovered just over the tub in a sitting position, legs crossed.

Yugi squawked again, hand flinging out wildly, searching for the wash cloth hanging on the bar. No sooner had his fingers found it than it was pressed in front of him, blocking the spirit from seeing anything south of the border.

There was a reason he had never liked bath houses.

"O-other me, what are you doing here?" Yugi's voice quaked as he swatted his soaked hair out of his face.

"What is this invention? Where is that water coming from?" The spirit was wide-eyed, staring holes into the shower-head.

"Well obviously it's a shower!" Yugi's voice cracked, his desperation hurrying the words from his mouth. "Other me, do you mind if we finish this later?"

"How incredible! The modern era is really something, eh?" He drifted closer to Yugi to inspect the piping coming from the walls and the slightly tarnished nozzles controlling the water flow.

The spirit was obviously more interested in the plumbing than Yugi's panicked entreaties.

And the boy's face turned redder, because the spirit was just as naked as he – and really did not seem to notice.

He buried his face in the hand not pressing the towel to his groin.

Perhaps this wouldn't be as easy as he'd thought.

"_Sorry._ _You stopped talking."_

_Her brow furrowed in confusion as she shifted more fully to face him. "Yes, I thought you were falling asleep. I was just going to turn off the TV and—"_

"_Please don't."_

The next time was a day later.

Despite his weariness, his mother had demanded that they resume upkeep of the shop now that they'd come home, and he refused to allow his grandfather to exert himself. He'd pulled an entire shift at the shop and now that 6pm had finally rolled around, he could lock the doors and start to close up.

Which is precisely what he had done, five minutes ago. Now he perched on the counter stool, tallying the day's totals from the register in the store ledger.

If he focused for just ten minutes, he would have everything squared away and he could relax. The familiar noises of his mother preparing dinner was certainly enough incentive to hurry along.

His fingers pushed back another thousand yen note as he muttered the count to himself.

"This is a respectable business your family runs."

He baulked, hands shooting out to grab the counter as the unsung intrusion broke his concentration and sent the small pile of bills fluttering to the floor.

The spirit had gone almost the whole day without appearing to Yugi, though he'd been able to sense him hovering at the edge of his consciousness. When there had been a lull in business, he'd even considered summoning the spirit.

But communicating with a mysterious, magical other personality was not as simple as it seemed. Even when he beckoned the other's (see-through) visage to his mind, that didn't seem to be enough to alert the spirit that he wanted his attention. He felt like an idiot speaking aloud to an empty store, and so had sat in silence, trying to think the right combination of things to summon the other to his side; it had not worked. How had he managed it during his duels on Pegasus's island?

Otherworldly communication needed an instruction manual.

"What does this do, partner?"

Yugi sighed, leaning his head into his hands as his eyes scanned the scattered bills on the floor. When he lifted it, he saw the spirit gesturing to the cash register.

"Uhh… well, that's where we keep the money for the store. When people pay for things, we put the money in and take out change if you need it."

The spirit, more inquisitive and wise than Yugi had first assumed, looked doubtfully at the register. "And it needs all those lights and glyphs to do that? Why pour magic into a box for just that?"

Yugi blinked, remembering that he'd failed twice already to explain electricity; his other persisted in referring to it as magic.

"Well, no, I mean –"

The first wafting of dinner hit his nose, and his stomach growled.

"Other me, how about I close up and then tonight we can talk more about—"

"Look at all these cards! Your grandfather is an incredible collector to have amassed so many!"

Yugi groaned, slamming his head on the counter.

This was shaping up to be a glorified babysitting job.

_Her eyes flickered, doubtful, to the television and then back to her friend._

"_Yugi you should really get some sleep. I can come back tomorrow morning and—"_

"_Anzu, please." _

_The desperation in his voice choked her words._

_She swallowed around the uncomfortable knot in her throat._

"_Yugi this is silly. You haven't slept a full night in almost a week, you're exhausted."_

_He did not answer her, favoring looking away with shame in his face that immediately made her regret her impatience._

The next morning.

"Other me, what are you—turn around at least!"

The spirit blinked at his host, then looked around, searching for a source to his distress.

"Yugi?"

The teen's head whipped toward his door which was slightly ajar. His mother's voice was dangerously close – she was standing in the hallway, out of sight.

"Y-yes mom?"

"Who are you talking to?"

He cursed under his breath, eyes flying to where his other floated nonchalantly. Would his mother see him if she walked into the room? He had no idea, but he didn't want to explain why there was a ghost kicking around in his room with him.

"Uh, just talking to myself! Don't mind me!" He coughed out a fake laugh, all the while berating himself for how insane he must have sounded.

Remembering to speak to the spirit via the mind was much harder than it seemed, when he was trying to get dressed in the privacy of his bedroom and there was an overly brazen, dead voyeur ogling him.

He was beginning to think this was what it felt like to have siblings.

Very intrusive, inconsiderate siblings.

_She slid closer to him and he shifted to allow her to lean up against him, head tilting closer._

"_Is it insomnia? Do you feel sick? Tell me what's wrong, so I can help." _

_He did not look at her, but she watched his face as his jaw worked to form words. She felt a chill work up her spine, the hair on her arms raising as she watched his eyes become a little shiner than they'd been before._

_The knot in her throat plummeted to her stomach with bleak understanding._

The afternoon two days later.

He threw his backpack at the base of the stairs as he leapt up two steps at a time. His stomach churned as the eighth burger that Jou had dared him reared its ugly head at his intestines.

He stumbled into the washroom as he bargained with his bowels. Then he threw open the door to the toilet.

"HOLY—"

The inertia of his surprise pushed him back as he tripped into the sink.

The spirit was hunched over on the toilet, staring in wonder at the control panel for the washlet on the opposite wall.

"Partner, why do you need a – what did you call them, a computer – to operate—"

"OTHER ME, MOVE!"

This was _really_ not as easy as he'd thought it would be.

"_It's so quiet. My head, it's—" His voice wobbled, and his breath hitched._

_Anzu felt a hot tear track stripe her own cheek, and she jerked toward him, gathering him in a hug against her chest. _

Wasn't this just a little too much responsibility for a freshman like him?

_How could she have thought one week was enough time for things to "go back to normal"?_

It was exasperating.

"_It's empty, and—"_

He was starting to think he'd do anything to get a little privacy.

"_I would do anything to have him back."_

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That was sort of melodramatic ~le sigh~. I appreciate reviews :] Until next time.


	3. Holding Fire

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

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Prompt: Yami Yugi feels guilty for wanting more time outside the puzzle. However, he's also intimidated by the modern world (aside from anything that has to do with dueling).

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**Holding Fire**

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"It's all right, just do like I did."

The gentle voice that spoke into his mind did nothing to comfort him as he stared accusingly at the end of the lighter.

It was completely counterintuitive; fire was dangerous. They had seen its threat firsthand as it nearly tore the younger man apart; the skin on his fingers was still marred smooth by the encounter.

And yet here they were, two boys between one body, hunched over the bucket of water with the gaudily colored, bright package of sparklers lying beside it. Yugi knelt beside him, a spirit, urging him on gently.

It always ended like this.

At some point that he could not recall, they had begun this familiar, private ritual. So much about the modern world fascinated him: the glass titans that clawed at the sky, hundreds of meters tall; the lifeless, hulking tubes of metal that sped impossibly fast over the countryside; the automatic, sterile precision of Japan.

It was mesmerizing, and terrifying.

He would often look out on the world as Yugi trundled through his day-to-day life, passing no comment but an awe-filled breath as the world would catch him off guard again. It made him wonder how much simpler the life he could not recall had been. Sometimes, when he was truly piqued, his astral form would separate from Yugi and wander, spellbound. But mostly, he preferred to look out through Yugi's eyes, a silent observer; the world seemed brighter, less threatening, more beautiful through his partner's eyes.

To the spirit, Yugi seemed to float through this time with effortless precision. He was by no means a graceful boy, but the tact with which he handled things as vexing to the king as navigating the subway lines of Domino always left him amazed. He wondered if however long he was meant for this world was enough time to take it all in.

And he so desperately wanted to.

Somehow, the boy was always aware of his awe. Countless times, the spirit had stood beside Yugi, invisible to all else, and watched him engage in tasks that would have seemed utterly mundane to the younger of the pair. Motions as trivial as eating steamed rice, drinking a chilled glass of tea, or even lying in his bed made the spirit long to be in control of his charge's body.

Every sensation was novel; every ritual was as unfamiliar as a foreign tongue.

He wanted to know them all, while there was still time.

But he could not ask his partner to relinquish his body. A body was the boy's God-given right; he had been born into this world by the labor of his mother and lived every day since [and too many in strife, for the king's personal taste] navigating the course of his life. The least he was due was a body.

So how could he, a cursed man-out-of-time, expect Yugi to hand over that body for untold lengths of time, simply so that he could do something as unimportant to the world as exist?

He singlehandedly had brought Hell to the Mutou doorstep. He had sentenced an entire lineage to slaving in the shadows to honor and extend his legacy – a legacy he could not even _remember_. He, the nameless Pharaoh, had almost cost Yugi his life.

He did not deserve time to explore and marvel at the world, no matter how desperately he wanted it.

But despite how vehemently he deemed himself unworthy, he was given the opportunity anyway.

Earlier that day, Yugi had been lazing in the living room, slumped over the couch in lethargy. They were in the most brutal stretch of summer, where the days were so sweltering that not even their band would leave their houses to get together; Yugi had called them "dog days". The store had a sleek air conditioning unit installed over the door to keep the space cool for customers, but the Mutou household was not so up on the times.

Yugi had been lazing, eyes glazed as he stared at the TV, when he'd suddenly popped up and headed for the kitchen. The spirit followed in curiosity, unaffected by the heat in his non-corporeal form. The purpose for Yugi's trip to the kitchen had been to dip into the refrigerator and pull out a covered plate of what he could only guess was fish.

"What are you eating?"

Yugi moved through the preparatory motions fluidly as he spoke. "It's charcoal-grilled eel. Mom picked up some at a stall near her office on the way home last night."

Only after a few beats of silence and the clear sense of confusion conveyed through their mind-link did Yugi look up.

"They say that the best way to beat the heat during this time of year is to eat charcoal-grilled eel." He paused and then chuckled bashfully, rubbing the back of his head. "I guess I never stopped to wonder why we do it."

The spirit nodded but said no more as he studied Yugi's process; he'd paddled two scoops of rice from the steamer into a deep bowl, and then had laid the reddened and branded eel strips on top. After thirty seconds in the microwave, the bowl was piping hot and Yugi licked his lips as he pilfered a pair of chopsticks from the utensil basket.

The boy's expression melted into euphoria at the first bite.

The spirit studied him, wondering what it tasted like. Yugi did not normally favor the traditional Japanese faire, what with their group's preference for the strange culinary delights of Burger World. The Puzzle's tenant had had the chance to try many of these usual indulgences, but he had never seen the boy eat eel.

The familiar ache of curiosity sunk into the stomach that wasn't really there.

And then.

"Would you like to try it..?"

He could never hide the pulse of excitement at the chance for a new experience from his partner.

And so they'd repeated their ritual again; Yugi set down the bowl and chopsticks with a gentle grin, lowered his hands to caress the puzzle in a gesture that was unnecessary habit and closed his eyes. And then, the spirit was standing before the counter with the otherwise-invisible specter of Yugi standing beside him.

"Go ahead."

The pharaoh tried to measure his speed, so that Yugi would not see the full breadth of his excitement. His pride let him forget that Yugi would feel all of it anyway.

It was always like this.

His pride could not allow him to ask Yugi to let him sample these everyday experiences. Every time the desire crept into his mind, he would try to squash it violently, guilt forcing him to deny himself again. And every time, Yugi would leave that pride unwounded, unchallenged with a gentle, seemingly-innocuous "would you like to try?" and an open heart.

For all the awe he had for the world, it could not match the awe he felt in the face of Yugi's unbound generosity and kindness.

So here they were again, in the ink of summer's night, with him in their body and a translucent Yugi beside him, watching as he stared down the lighter clutched tightly in his fingers.

The first time he'd seen fireworks, the four friends had traveled half-an-hour outside of Domino via the train to a sleepy suburban town where the noise and lights of the city did not reach. It was July, in the rainy season, on a night that showers had not rolled clouds across the island and the sun had burned off all the humidity. The spirit had stood beside Yugi on the train, staring at the plethora of girls in flowered _yukata_ and children clutching their parent's hands, unable to rein their excitement. Only a second's worth of confusion fed down their link was needed for Yugi to launch into a mental explanation of fireworks' festivals and their endurance in Japan.

They walked through the twilight behind droves of people trekking toward the open field where the fireworks could be seen; apparently, Yugi had explained, the fireworks were launched from a barge that floated safely in the town's lake, away from spectators. The mental images that Yugi sent him of exploding sparks and colored streams of light were enough to both startle and enthrall him.

They were nothing compared to the real thing.

Amidst the blinding flashes and deafening pops that kept all eyes firmly trained on the sky, Yugi's consciousness had dulled and tugged the pharaoh's into his body, switching places so that the once-king could physically experience the fireworks. He had not even asked him if he wanted to trade forms.

The blood that he did not have as a spirit thrummed with adrenaline as he felt the percussive bangs vibrate in his ears and the rainbow flashes sting his retina.

It was glorious, and maybe a little alarming. How could this be safe? It seemed that at any moment, the sky would rain fire and burn them all, and yet he was surrounded by thousands whose only prerogative in that moment was to keep their eyes fixed on the sky. Lights flashed off the clouds and smoke wafted through the air, concealing the embers and then revealing them again in short seconds, a staged display of brilliance.

After that, Yugi had allowed him to keep control of their body so that he could sample shaved ice and discuss the display with their friends. With vigor, Anzu had explained how fireworks were a time-honored and beloved tradition in their country, how Japan found beauty in things that bloomed and faded away in a flash. Apparently, they loved fireworks so much that it was normal for convenience stores to sell small and normally harmless packages of them for the average person to enjoy. Jou and Honda had jumped in to regale him with descriptions of their favorite types, and then stories of how they'd almost hurt themselves lighting their pants on fire.

He could not remember his former life, but he knew better than to treat fire as trivial. So despite his fascination, he had silently wondered how the people here could so willingly hold it in their hands.

But this too seemed to be an experience Yugi deigned to allow him, though he was decidedly more hesitant about it.

So on that very hot August day, after the sun had gone down and the fireflies had lit their lamps, Yugi had scurried through the house with surprisingly more energy than he'd had earlier, pulling the candy-colored package from beneath his bed and bringing it down to the kitchen where he filled a cleaning bucket with water.

The spirit decided that there was something to that charcoal-grilled eel after all.

And then, with reverent anticipation, Yugi had crept into the backyard where only the dying traces of red that still lingered on the horizon were visible.

"Here, watch me."

Yugi had pulled out the long, red-handled lighter with its finger trigger and held it away from his body, showing it to the spirit. In his other hand he held the yellow-and-glitter wrapped sparkler stick.

"Now make sure when you hold it that you point the stick away from your body so that it doesn't shoot toward you. I don't want to have to explain to mom why I'm going to the hospital over sparklers." Yugi laughed in good humor, grinning at the spirit.

He had nodded, on edge about the possibility of Yugi being injured in this fiery escapade. Still, when Yugi's finger squeezed the lighter trigger and the sparkler caught, he forgot his fear; he could not look away as sparks danced and shot from the end, burning so brightly that all color was washed out in favor of white hot light.

The crackling sparks, not quite like flame, licked down the sparkler's shaft until they reached the edge of the yellow paper, a few safe inches from Yugi's fingers. And then suddenly, they died; the whole vision had lasted barely half a minute.

"All right, now you."

Before he was ready, he was being pulled into Yugi's body and the boy was ejected beside him. The change was not disorienting anymore, but it always felt a bit jarring when it was Yugi deciding to initiate the switch rather than him.

Now in control, the once-king turned the lighter over in his hand, wondering again if it was actually safe to be so cavalier with fire.

"It's all right, just do like I did."

The spirit raised a nervous glance to his partner, but the boy just smiled encouragingly and nodded, gesturing towards the package of sparklers with a hand. Taking a steadying breath that he tried to keep quiet so Yugi would not hear his nerves, he reached into the package and extracted a sparkler, this one neon pink-and-glitter. The small tuft of tissue paper at the end stuck out at an angle, ready to receive the flame and throw it down to the waiting gunpowder beneath the wrapping.

He stared at the stick and the lighter in his hand, but he could not bring his finger to pull the trigger. The seconds were agonizingly slow as his face burned; he thanked the blessedly dark sky for hiding the flush in his cheeks. For a man so fearless against otherworldly, Egypt-spawned world threats, he was embarrassingly put off by a little sparkler.

His mind buzzed as he tried to will his finger to action, but it would not budge. He fervently ignored the fact that Yugi would surely feel his unrest and hesitance and told himself that if he just lit the sparkler, Yugi would not know of his fear.

And then he felt a hand that wasn't really there close over his that held the sparkler and the other slide under the wrist that supported the lighter, and imagined the boy's breath on his cheek.

"It's okay other me, nothing bad will happen. Light it."

He forgot his worry and his finger twitched, and the sparkler caught flame.

It was not loud and intense the way the festival fireworks had been. The ball of light that clung around the stick crept slowly downward, eating away at the powder that fueled it. It was small and weak, but bright and determined to reach the paper's edge. He squinted as its light flooded his eyes.

With tenacity, the sparks stole down the shaft, heading for an abrupt end. The spirit tilted his head, away from the stick, to look at his partner who huddled close, holding up the sparkler with him.

His time here – this time with Yugi – was like these sparklers. Together they burned brightly, seemingly weak against the obstacles that mounted against them, and did not slow as they surged forward, chasing his identity and an end to the Millennium Items. He desperately wanted his memories back, and he was not afraid of what lay ahead. But, on nights like this, in the hush, swaddled in the warmth of his companionship, he knew that no time with Yugi would ever be enough.

Yugi's gaze shifted to meet his, captive, and his eyes, even in spirit form, reflected the fire brightly. In them, the man-out-of-time saw understanding and consonance and guilt and a silent plea not to speak these regrets aloud. His fingers tightened around the sparkler as the embers died out.

They were not meant to last, but there was time yet. They could forget their parting for now, because there were still days ahead, full of new experiences for Yugi and their friends to share with the pharaoh.

Tonight was not going to be tainted by the uncertainty and hurt poised on its clever haunches somewhere in the future. For now, the days were theirs to seize and do with what they wished. There were countless things he still wished to try, to see and feel with flesh and blood.

Tonight, he had banished one fear, and he would do so again, partner at his side.

He was still intimidated by so many things in this world. He wanted to face them, try them for himself and know that he had bested his trepidation. He still wanted to know the cold bite of snow on his fingers, to taste Yugi's favorite hot chocolate that only appeared on shelves in December, to work up the gumption to ride the impossibly tall coaster at Kaiba Land. He would make sure that there was time for them still; he would not let destiny move him more quickly than he wished.

Tonight was not for worry.

Tonight, he had held fire.

* * *

土用の丑の日 (_dog days of summer)_ – 18-day period before the first day of autumn on the lunar calendar; these are the hottest days of the year in Japan.

梅雨(_rainy season_) – Written as "plum rain" in kanji, Japan's rainy season starts around mid-June and lasts approximately 4-6 weeks (until mid-to-end of July); this year's rainy season lasted unusually long (I should know…)!

鰻の蒲焼き (charcoal-grilled eel) – This dish is traditionally recommended for avoiding summer heat fatigue, and is usually consumed on the hottest day of the year (the first day of _the dog days_)

花火大会 (fireworks festival) – In Japan, fireworks are a staple of summer. Unlike in the west where we usually celebrate specific occasions with fireworks (like the 4th of July or _Bastille Day_), fireworks displays or regularly planned for clear, summer nights and brings out families young and old in droves. Girls will usually take this chance to break out their _yukata_ while some boys will wear _jinbei_.

I appreciate all reviews :) See you next time.


	4. 5 Steps

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

* * *

Summary: "The lives you and I will never live in five steps." Yugi's thoughts in his final moments with Atem.

* * *

**5 Steps**

* * *

The footsteps in this place are pretty loud.

Even so, I still hear the last decibels of my own voice bouncing off the stone walls. On top of that, it seems like the afterlife is a noisy place. Also, it's really windy – if I had to guess what heaven was like, I wouldn't have compared it to a mountain top, but I might have to change my opinion.

You're on the threshold of heaven. I want to know what it looks like on the other side, but the light coming through the door is blinding and it almost hurts to look directly into it, like trying to stare at the sun. Can you see what's on the other side? Somehow this doesn't seem like the right time to ask.

You're changing. The light around you is bending and it's like you're returning to yourself. It's making my chest feel tight. You look _right_ in your king's clothes.

How on Earth am I still smiling, you're about to die. There's no polite story in the world that changes that truth. Your footsteps are getting fainter – they're getting harder to count. I didn't even realize I was counting them until now. You're nineteen steps into the next phase – probably the last phase – of your life.

Still, I wish you'd stop walking.

5 steps.

You stop walking. You turn around and I can imagine the apologetic grin on your face. I know you want this and you know I want this because you want this, but then there's the part of us we don't talk about out loud anymore – the part that makes us cringe and hesitate because we don't want to split up.

You turn your back on heaven and that giant door closes. Anzu screams so loudly it makes me jump and Honda starts laughing. I forget how to breathe for about two seconds, and then you clap a hand on my shoulder and wink and I chuckle and wipe my tears away because you _would_ put our feelings first.

You would put _my _feelings first.

We step off the dais and you're gone, but I feel you in the room. You've returned to the Puzzle. I guess it would have to be like this, bodies just don't materialize out of thin air… usually.

For the rest of my life you are my companion and I'll be equal parts joy and guilt because what happens when I'm gone? Will you ever be able to move on now?

We've probably doomed ourselves to fighting off evil psychopaths for the rest of our lives because the Puzzle and the items are still here, but I'm fairly sure we can handle it. We'll be the best geriatric super heroes ever.

This might get in the way of me forming healthy new relationships with girls…

I'm still happy though. It's better not to think about it too hard.

4 steps.

You stop walking. Your hesitation is so palpable I feel like you're waiting for me to push you. But you do finally turn around and you're shaking your head. You still have on the apologetic grin, but I think you're apologizing to yourself. _You_ don't want to leave, even though you think you should. Even though I won.

Jou can't hold Anzu back this time as you walk towards us and the door slams closed and she throws herself at you. You and Jou laugh and Honda's having a hard time getting himself to stop crying. Ishizu's scandalized objections are being tamped down by Malik.

You hold Anzu and rub her shoulder as you try to calm her from her happy hysterics. You look at me, and I want to hug you too.

You shrug and cant your head at our girl and then we both laugh quietly, because everything is understood. There will be _time_ for everything now. I nod.

You step off the dais and you're whole and I think my heart explodes. You're staring at your hands because you can't believe it either; Ishizu is hyperventilating and Malik is cracking up. Grandpa won't stop rubbing his head. Ryou is still hungry.

Everything is right in the world, and we all go home to Japan together.

We keep playing Duel Monsters, but you want games to be your life's work. So it becomes your job and I keep them as my hobby. I run the game shop and you're all over TV and it works out because Kaiba has created a false identity for you because he's got way too much pull in our government and that does not surprise me.

You meet someone and so do I and our sons will grow up together the way we weren't able to. Our children will never have to know how we felt, when we were lonely boys with so very few friends. We are together, and they will be too, and our families will grow old and prosperous with those of our friends'.

You'd probably be a more nervous father than me. I think maybe you can't let go of your control issues because you used to rule a country and I really hope you never have daughters, for their sakes! It's kind of hilarious.

We are old men with our wives getting breakfast on Sunday mornings and our kids can't stand us because we're stubborn old bastards and that's the way it's supposed to be, because you are you, and I am me.

3 Steps.

Or maybe we live together the rest of our lives. I still can't get a date and you say you don't need a girl because our friends keep you busy enough.

We keep each other happy and we never lament the fact that there won't be any more Mutous or… well, I don't know what your surname would be in this case, but you get the point.

I go to college and you play tournaments to afford us living together wherever we go. I get a business degree and the game shop becomes more successful than the Black Crown; me and Otogi become business partners because we're better as a team than rivals.

We visit Egypt and maybe you regret your decision to stay some nights because she's not your Egypt anymore, but you have me and this and I guess it's not so bad when you think of it that way.

We can see the whole world because you make ridiculous amounts of money from casinos that don't know any better, and Otogi and I make a killing with our game shops. We can visit Rebecca in America and we'll accidentally run into Keith; hilarity will ensue. We'd probably run into Mai in the last country we'd expect her in, which will be perfectly appropriate.

We spend Christmas's with our friends when Anzu comes home from New York for the holiday. Jou and Honda make cracks at us because we always spend Christmas with them instead of girls and go home together at the end of the night; I chase them around and you laugh. It's not gay because it's just you and me, why is that so complicated to understand?

I go to bed happy every night, even when you piss me off. I haven't lost my brother, and we get to make up for the time we lost by being born three thousand years apart.

2 steps.

You keep walking. I feel like I'm going to throw up and then my feet are flying and I'm falling into that blinding light after you.

I don't know what happens after that. Maybe it feels like I'm dying, or maybe it's a time machine. Maybe we're suddenly back in Egypt but it's real this time. I don't know how we're going to explain this to anyone.

How am I going to learn ancient Egyptian? Do you have to wait to speak Japanese to me when no one is listening because your priests will think you've been possessed? Is that even something ancient Egyptian priests worry about?

This way definitely causes more problems than it solves. I know it and you know it too and we both never say it out loud because we know it was the wrong decision for me to make. And still, it doesn't matter because we've ended up together and there are very few things I can think of that you and I can't accomplish.

If anyone can pull the wool over an entire palace's eyes, it'll be you. Besides, you seemed like a pretty mischievous kid in your memories; Mana will probably help us make it all work.

1 step.

You keep walking. I stand still, and I hope no one is looking because I'm crying like a baby.

You go Home. You go back to your family, the people who have been waiting patiently for you for millennia.

You get to see your cousin again, who is probably much better company than Kaiba. You two will probably rule the ancient world together and those people don't know how lucky they are.

You go back to your best friend, and she and your tutor will never have to give up their souls because you're with them and they can protect you and love you and they won't have to do it from afar, trapped in stone. I can't imagine anything better than that; I think I owe them more than you do, at this point.

You have your court back and the life that you should have had from the start.

You get to see your _father_ again.

I stay here. I don't follow you. The door closes, and you are there and I am here. We lead entirely separate lives and become a memory in each other's heads.

Still.

There's only one future good enough for you. Only one of those paths is the one that you deserve, and I'm still barely sane enough to know that it isn't one that I'm a part of.

Heaven isn't even good enough for you, but I don't think we can do better than that, so we'll have to settle. I'm putting faith in the people that have been waiting for you, that they'll take care of you better than we could, and make you happier than we would. Not that you need anyone to do that for you.

Everything beyond the door is still; the light is sterilizing, scorching the stones where it's pouring onto the dais. My eyes hurt – is the light really making them water this much?

I imagine you're probably turning back to look at us one more time. I don't want you to see me like this; it's a little embarrassing. You're so sure this is the way it's supposed to be, and at the end of the day I trust you.

This has to be right. It is right.

I'm grinning and I don't think it's forced, and that makes me smile wider.

I'm not okay now, but I think I will be. It's not going to be right without you, not at first. Actually I think it'll be hell. I don't know what it'll be like for you, but I hope you're so happy you don't have time to miss us. If the thing in my chest squeezing my heart is any indication, there may be a bumpy road ahead.

But I'll be okay eventually. I'll find a way to be right again.

Even though I'll imagine our lives playing out differently over and over again, I know that we'll have gotten it right the first time. This is not the part of our lives where we're together, and that's how it's supposed to be. I'm pretty sure we've earned a reunion somewhere down the line; we did save the world a few times, after all.

A deep breath, one more for good measure; the door is sliding closed and this is the last glimpse I'll ever have of you, even though it's barely an outline.

There's an itchy patch of skin on my cheek where tears are collecting. But screw it, goodbyes are the one time where even a guy can cry.

My other self – Atem – my brother, my guardian, my role model, my goal, my best friend.

I love you, and that's the truth. I will miss you and it's going to hurt like a bitch, so I hope heaven is _really_ awesome because this really won't be worth it otherwise.

The door slams shut and stale air blows my hair up and Anzu is whispering and now it sounds like _everyone_ is crying – except Kaiba, naturally.

"Other me."

I will never forget you, and I've got to let you go.

* * *

A/N: As a side note, this is supposed to take place in the last episode during the 26 seconds before Yugi whispers "other me" for the last time. If it reads sporadic and not really polished, that was purposeful; this should read like the stream of his thoughts as they occur to him.

I'm sorry I write lots of sad stuff ;A; I just really connect with his loss, so it gives me lots of inspiration. Hopefully you've enjoyed my attempt at Yugi 1POV. I'd love to know what people thought of it! See you all next time :)


	5. Portrait

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

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Summary: "And here is the portrait of a broken boy."

Writing music: "The Ghost of You" by My Chemical Romance

* * *

**Portrait**

* * *

A girl chalked hearts in the street outside.

Cars passed in lethargic intervals; her mother counted birds and checked her mobile every 23 seconds.

The minute hand stuck and the afternoon slid like molasses across the horizon. Shadows dragged the sun down.

Inside, war.

Sugoroku clutched his heart and yanked his bandana off his head, wiping the sweat from his brow. His heartbeat spiked.

Anzu willed her legs to move but she was glued to the tile. She clutched her mouth as if to ward off smoke; the air was thick enough. She didn't know if the copper tang in her nose was imagined; fingers brushed shreds of glossy advertisement.

Honda heaved the cash register back onto the counter. He tried not to trip across the store over toppled displays and broken glass. He fell against the front door as he turned the lock and nearly ripped the shade off the door's glass window. His temple bled.

Jou wrenched his shoulders back, hauling the smallest boy away from the window; this was the fourth attempt. His muscles ached. The woman outside had not looked toward them yet; she would've hurried her daughter away in paranoia.

Cards fell from the tilting shelf.

And Yugi.

Yugi grunted and struggled. He shoved an elbow into his best friend's sternum. He pulled hair and turned dull nails into weapons (they didn't work). His breath rasped and he choked on saliva; his nose felt stiff.

"Yugi, stop it! Please stop, you're hurting yourself!" Anzu sobbed ineffectually, crumpling poster between twitching fingers. Her voice creaked like rusted hinges.

"Man get him under control."

"What the fuck do you think I'm doing? Take his legs."

"He's gonna kick me in the balls—"

"Grab his fucking legs man!"

"Yugi calm down!"

"Yugi…!"

Dead wisteria swung in their direction. Anzu wondered if her mouth had swollen.

Hysteria.

Here, the portrait of a broken boy.

"Jou he's gonna break the window, his arms—"

"Worry about his fucking legs you dumb piece of—"

"Get off me!"

She looked at the kindling in her hands, the tinder to this holocaust. A pointed, amethyst eye slanted up at her; even with a quarter of a face, she could read confidence in his brow. The man had been too confident for his own good.

His grandfather keened, helpless, stumbling beside Anzu and reaching a lost hand for his grandson. "Yugi, please my boy, everything will be—"

A banshee shriek and echoes ricocheted from the walls.

"It's not _fine_! It's not going to be _fine_!"

Anzu wrenched forward, the pitiable howls sending her diving for his thrashing sneakers.

"Yugi, you don't have to do this! We can get through this to—"

One black eye to add to the swollen lip; his words were more painful than the errant kick.

Sugoroku had been wrong to hang that promotional poster in the window. He had misjudged his grandson's recovery. The trauma was under his skin where they could not see.

These few months had only been the tip of the berg; a monster hunched beneath the currents. It roiled and spewed poison in the air that closed their throats and brought tears to their eyes.

It gouged holes in their hearts and kept them awake at night.

Yugi had not stayed above water like they thought.

"_He's never coming home!"_

The sob wrenched from his throat in time with Anzu's bubbling wale. Jou shouted in supreme anger and frustration; he twisted and rammed a shoulder into his best friend and sent the other teen to the ground wheezing.

Honda fell on him and pinned his shoulders and knees on the glass and tile. He glared at the half of a pharaonic face still hanging in the shop window.

A typhoon would have left less damage. The clock chimed four and silence amplified their haggard breathing. Nobody felt relief; nobody spoke.

A girl chalked hearts in the street outside.

* * *

A/N: I don't normally consider what I write to be angst but this time I can categorically say that THIS falls under angst hurrhurr. This was departure from my norm, but sometimes you just have to let it out! Until next time :]


	6. Paradise Is

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

Prompt: Blindshipping

Genre: Friendship, Romance (finally!)

* * *

**Paradise Is**

* * *

_I've been here twice before._

_Twice, this lintel has cast its shadow on my face._

_Really, this is too much to ask of one person. I guess that's why "third time's a charm" was a saying in your time._

"Do you see these lanterns?" The tour guide swept his arm grandly toward the ceiling, indicating the evenly spaced glass cages hanging above their heads. "There are 365 of them, one for every day of the year."

An excited murmur rippled across the small cluster of students. They spoke quickly, in whispers, taking this chance to marvel in their native language at the wonders of the mosque.

One hand shot up as a boy stepped away from his friend in the study abroad group, waiting for acknowledgement from the young tour guide.

"How… long do people… light the lantern?"

The student watched the tour guide earnestly, and the young man in charge held in a chuckle. Being tour guide to a group of foreign students came with the unwieldy perk of a language barrier. The group of 9 students was accompanied by a bilingual translator shuffling his British-scented English into Japanese that the students eagerly latched onto. This student, though, had trundled forward at every turn with his not-so-hopelessly-broken English to satiate his curiosity. It was almost cute.

"How long does it take them to light the lanterns?" At a nod, "Well I'd imagine at least an hour. I've seen them moving around the circle with a rolling step ladder as you can see the lanterns are not very high up…"

The student seemed to chew the information as if it were taffy, and the guide could almost see the reimagined scene of the devout patiently lighting each lantern in the thoughtful lines of the boy's face. It was refreshing to meet tourists who were so genuinely interested in Cairo's culture beyond its ties to the worldly wonders of Ancient culture and the grandiose pyramids.

_Nobody is supposed to see death. It is the universe's best kept secret. We cross the threshold at death's palace, blinded by the splendors of the next life, and we do not see._

_At least we are not supposed to._

_I'm a maverick though. I always did insist on doing things _my _way. _

"Now come this way."

The student lagged back as the group shuffled after the tour guide who led them from the main prayer chamber. He turned to his friend when he felt her latch her arms around his elbow.

"You're so brave trying to use English…"

He laughed, shaking his head. "But it's bad, can't you tell? He has to repeat every question I try to ask because I mess it up!" He looked overhead as they passed through the shadowed hall from the mosque's great domed room into an antechamber of sorts.

His friend giggled. "Better than me! I wish I could, the guide is cute…" She chewed on her lip as she garbled out the last bit.

The boy flushed but no one would know in the darkened hallway. "It's so cool how he knows so much about Cairo. I bet he grew up here and had to study really hard to remember all the things he does."

The group of students crowded into the smaller room just off the courtyard.

"Gather around this pillar everyone."

They hushed as they formed a semicircle around the alabaster stanchion.

_In this lifetime death has been denied to me twice; first, when I sacrificed myself to the puzzle, second when I lost that duel and crossed into the afterlife._

_Or it was meant to be the afterlife._

_Fate had a grander design I suppose. I could've used a memo._

_I was given my life to live over again – to save my kingdom before disaster struck. In this time, I was able to personally deliver peace to my people._

_Because of you._

The tour guide waited for the whispers of Japanese to muffle before he began speaking, eyeing the translator.

"This mosque is noteworthy for its extensive use of alabaster. Although it is the Mosque of Muhammad Ali, it is known also as the Alabaster Mosque. I imagine you don't come across a lot of alabaster in Japan."

The students, eyes mostly trained on the translator, waited for the message to pass through their tongue. Even the eager student could not reconcile words like "alabaster" and "extensive". Delayed by the translation lag, they finally nodded in unsure wonder as their attention was brought to the beautiful building blocks of this particular mosque.

"Alabaster is a unique stone. Although it is solid like marble, it is not entirely opaque." The tour guide smirked at the group's confusion as he pulled a small lighter from the pocket of his khakis.

"Stand on this side of the pillar and gather in close." He walked to the pillar's other side as they processed the interpreter's command and pulled into a close knit huddle and stared questioningly at the pillar's surface.

He flicked the lighter and chuckled as a gasp rose from the students. A litany of _"sugoi!"s_ echoed off the walls as they saw the light of the flame through the thickness of the pillar; he'd gathered by now that "sugoi" must be Japanese for "wow!".

There was a particularly nice ring to the enthusiastic student's amazement. In his boyish voice, the absolute wonder was palpable, flavorful. It was sweet and warming, like honeyed tea.

The guide cleared his throat as he shooed his thoughts away.

"Mr. Nazari, where do we find alabaster?" The question was hesitant but the guide couldn't help the impressed flush in his cheeks at the grammatically sound question from his star student.

"Alabaster is actually found in Egypt domestically. It is said that alabaster was named after the Egyptian city of Alabastron where the stone is quarried."

As the answer was translated, he noticed that the student's gaze did not leave his, even though the boy seemed to cock his ear in the direction of the interpreter's voice. He was slightly humbled by the boy's obvious respect.

_You cried the day that I left. On your knees, you shed tears for me because you did not want to see me go._

_As king, I don't know if I received a greater honor._

_I did not cry, because I was tired. I was ready to move on. I was relieved._

_But I did not die; I returned instead._

_And in the space between life and death, frozen on the threshold of death's palace as time dissolved me, my eyes saw._

_And then I cried too._

The boy's friend rubbed her hands on her jeans, crinkling her nose. "Why does it feel like there is a permanent layer of dust on my hands?"

He looked around the courtyard of the Citadel thoughtfully as they moved. "I think it's all the sand. It gets into everything." Sand wasn't something they had a special commodity of in their part of Japan.

The young tour guide was leading them through the Citadel's vast central courtyard now. As the afternoon stretched, he could see the fatigue in the group of students beginning to slow them down. They had covered tours of both the mosques and one of the Citadel's museums in the timeframe of a few hours.

He still owed them what many saw as the Citadel's most spectacular view.

From behind him, the lilting voice of the interpreter called his attention.

"Mr. Nazari, the students were wondering if you could tell them a little about yourself?"

He stopped and turned to face the group, halting their leisurely shuffle. He noticed the girl in front averting her eyes and the red dusting her cheekbones.

"Oh, I'm sorry; it's no trouble at all." He paused as they all looked at him. The eager student leaned forward a little and he smothered a grin.

"My name is Atem Nazari. I was born here in Cairo; I grew up in Coptic Cairo, which you may have seen already. If not, I'm sure you will see a glimpse of it before you go home." He imagined that the enthusiastic boy was itching to pull out a notebook the way his hands fidgeted.

"I went to university here in Egypt for my bachelor's degree in Egyptology." He paused as the interpreter caught up with him. "I did a semester abroad at Oxford as well."

His brow furrowed as a chorus of what sounded like _"naruhodo!_" rose from the small crowd; the eager student smacked the bottom of one fist into his open palm in realization.

He raised his eyes to the interpreter and she chuckled. "They were all so impressed by your English, they wondered how you became so fluent. All of our students have to study English in secondary school, but they find it very difficult to become fluent in it."

He grinned. "Many Egyptians learn to speak English in addition to our native language and dialects. I am by no means special. Besides, some of your students seem to be equally talented!" Without care, he winked at the eager student.

Before he was pulled in by the starry-eyed shock on the boy's face, he turned away. "Now then, we've been blessed with a clear day. I'm sure the view of the pyramids will be splendid."

_In a second, I saw us. I saw times and worlds I could not have dreamt of, places that I _did_ see in my sleep for the rest of my kingly life._

_There are many worlds, many times, as vast and varying as the grandest tapestry; lives weave like golden thread in dizzying patterns. They bisect, diverge, loop and knot. In every world, we souls exist and adapt in whatever way we can._

_And in all of them, we were together, you and I. In every one, we were partners._

_And I understood the meaning of paradise, and the truth of the promise of the Field of Reeds._

Atem felt the energy of the students dial up as they filed through the doorway onto the great Citadel's southeast balcony. There were other tourists there though some were trickling away as others leaned on the railing and stared into the great horizon.

The pyramids loomed in the distance, framed by the orange glow of sunset, in all of their splendor.

The students scurried forward, tearing out cameras and dissolving into amazed Japanese. He hung back and took the moment to appreciate their renewed enthusiasm.

Though it was perhaps not the most luxurious of lifestyles, he did not regret that his life was the history of this place, from this very view down to crumbling stone of the place he'd grown up in. A degree in Egyptology wasn't exactly scarce in Cairo, but he was young yet, scarcely three years older than the students he was guiding. Who knew what was waiting for him? He had a knack for turning the unlikely into reality.

"Eto, Mr. Nazari?" Without looking, he recognized the heavy accent of the eager boy.

"Yes?"

"Was your study of… _nante iu ka_… ee-gypto-oro-gee…difficult?"

Atem held back a laugh at the boy's intense concentration on the lengthy name of his subject. He shrugged, arms uncrossing as he opened his stance to the boy.

"Ah well I suppose it may have taken many hard hours of work. But I grew up here, and I've always liked learning about history. If it's something you have passion for, you'll find the energy to work harder."

The guide found himself conscious of his speech, speaking slowly to find words he thought the boy would understand.

"Ah! I want to study ee-gypto-oro-gee too!" The student enthused, shaking a vigorous fist as he grinned.

Atem smiled brilliantly. Something told him this student had just the right kind of energy for turning his passion for Egypt into his life's work. He seemed to practically overflow with a friendly, positive energy.

And his smile was infectious.

_What is paradise?_

_If it is a field, then we have tilled it together._

_If it is an ocean, I have swum it beside you. _

The slightly older guide reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small card. "I can see that you really have an interest in Egypt." As he spoke, he pulled out a pen and scrawled a number on the blank side of the card.

"Take this. That's my personal number; if you want to come by the Citadel to take another look around, please don't hesitate to call."

The boy took the card and his vigorous nod made Atem laugh again.

_If it is a sprawling metropolis, surely you will always find me._

_You have in every life before._

"Thank you Mr. Nazari!"

"You can call me Atem. What is your name?"

The boy leaned forward. "I am Mutou Yugi! You should say 'Yugi Mutou'."

_Paradise is being with the ones we love, no matter the time or place._

_And despite what the universe has devised, we will always find each other._

Atem held out a hand, smiling. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mutou."

Yugi spluttered, shaking his head. "Please call me 'Yugi'." He took Atem's hand and they shook.

And they both laughed, unaware of the world around them.

_Fate moves us._

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A/N: I finally earned the genre I set for this series! I didn't want to change it because my ultimate goal is to write them through the lens of something more than just platonic... Unfortunately, everything up to now has fit the "Spiritual" (or angst, I suppose) genre better than friendship and romance hehe._  
_

Until next time! :]


	7. Off Kilter

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters = Kazuki Takahashi

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Prompt: Yugi has forgotten what it was like to not share his body.

Writing music for this chapter: "My Body is a Cage" cover by Peter Gabriel

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**Off Kilter**

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_mY BOdY is A CagE thAt k eeps M__ə__ fROM dAncINg wItH thE ONE i LovE_

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Had there always been a crack in his ceiling?

_Tick._

Perhaps it wasn't actually a crack. The glare from his cell phone had left his pupils over-dilated; the crack was just a shadow in stark relief. Of course his ceiling was unmarred.

He should have known that.

_Tock._

Yugi shifted lower under his coverlet, trying to find a new position – one that might be more conducive to sleep. His fingers twitched over the leg of his pajamas, picking at a pull in the fabric.

Silence.

It stretched uncomfortably over the room, a vacuum that seemed to keep him stuck in cognizance. He imagined that even if he stood up, tried to open his door to leave the room, there would be nothing over the threshold.

Empty space where sound amplified exponentially and took long, tense moments for the echoes to die.

It would make for a stunning replica of his mind, at that moment.

_Tick._

It was verging on two weeks since they'd crawled under the sands to complete a ritual millennia overdue. They had been in Egypt for barely three days before the entire charade was over and they were all sleepwalking onto their flight home.

No one had talked to one another.

The whole thing had not seemed real, when they were sitting in their cushioned seats with their tray tables covered in questionable in-flight meals of sushi and curried beef.

Yugi had not been able to eat any of it. He was too nauseous to even try.

How did an animal learn to balance without a tail when it is bitten off?

Of all the things Yugi had prepared himself for, tried to expect of his parting with the Pharaoh, this had not been one of them. He had lived with only one person in his mind for fourteen years; it had been the majority of his life. Did he not have much more practice being alone in his head than accompanied? He had not thought that living with a second voice could change the landscape so drastically.

_Tock_.

He flipped open his cellphone and squinted at the LCD numbers on its screen. One minute and twenty three seconds had passed since the last time he'd checked it.

The hour crawled, dragging Yugi mockingly behind it, taking measured, poised steps so that he would feel every sharp rock he was scraped past. His agony rattled in his head, ricocheting through the extra space like a pinball.

He had been woefully unprepared for the consequences of that duel.

At first, it was difficult to concentrate. His thoughts, once contained by the solid presence of another person forming a jetty across his mind, oozed out in the empty space, and he found them oft times difficult to collect. He'd become so preoccupied with reclaiming those very thoughts that he would not hear the person speaking to him.

He was set completely off-kilter.

Then there was mild relief. When they arrived back in Domino, it was as if the spell was broken. They set foot in the terminal, and a collective sigh of relief passed through them, duelist and spectator alike. What had happened in that sacred underground – what had passed to bring them to that strange shrine in the desert – was like a distant memory, though it loomed behind them conspicuously. Somehow, they were able to stop themselves from looking behind, to avoid seeing the devastation their path had trawled through.

But when Yugi caught Rebecca in his arms, he'd felt faint and come very close to keeling over. His knees felt like jelly, and everything was very loud. The girl's voice, normally childlike and shrill had become a banshee shriek in his ear, and he wondered if they could tell how his head swam.

_Tick_.

It was a sudden deafness, arresting him of his spacial and depth perception, allowing chaos to rampage through his head.

Atem had been an omnipotent presence in his heart and mind, always privy to Yugi's thoughts when he wanted him to be (and even sometimes when he didn't). When he was alone, it was superficial, because the spirit had been there. His mind was a comfortably packed archive of two boys' thoughts and feelings, a highway of discussion and bare intentions. When he was bored, Atem had been his entertainment; when he was troubled, Atem his counsel; when he was frightened, Atem his bastion.

Atem had been like a fixture in his brain, though much more precious than any piece of furniture could be to its respective room. A chair could not comfort, protect, or relieve its surroundings. A chair could not love its habitat.

So how much more devastating when Atem was no longer there, a quiet presence hovering in his mind, ready to answer Yugi's summon, even when it was just a skipped beat of his heart. The spirit had always known when Yugi needed him, even when Yugi himself did not.

He could barely recall any of the times where he'd wished he wasn't playing host to the spirit now.

_Tock_.

Yugi was more than certain he was mere moments from hurling his alarm clock at the wall. How had he never noticed that overbearing ticking before?

Then again, he couldn't remember it ever being this quiet.

Though he had lived alone with himself for far longer than his partnership with Atem, it was incomparable. Until he'd completed the Puzzle, he had never known different. He did not recognize the empty corners of his mind because there had never been anything to occupy them. Atem had, like smoke, slipped into the recesses of his mind and filled them, a rich ink on empty canvas. Yugi had not recognized the nature of his cohabitation, until it was over; he had sometimes imagined that his brain – his heart – had _stretched _to make room for the Pharaoh. Now he knew better.

The spirit had lifted the veil from his eyes, and he could see the far reaches of his mind now, sitting pensive and awaiting use.

They were covered in dust and broken things and detritus from two years of perfect communion.

He had not thought of their parting as a break-up, but the wreckage of his mind certainly made it feel that way.

Yugi's head slowly turned on its side, gaze sweeping the room in dull, maddened frustration. The shadows stretched ghoulishly across the walls, seeming much longer than they should have been. As his eyes fixed on one spot, the room seemed to zoom out around him, growing elephantine as he shrunk.

Even lying still, he found balance hard to come by. He wondered sickly if he'd ever find it again.

The illusion of expanded space had first struck him on the staircase outside his bedroom. He could remember the scene clearly: the afternoon sun had thrown the shadow of the stair banister against the wall, bathing it in orange and black glow. The house had been utterly still – it was empty and undisturbed by the slow pace of afternoon slipping past outside.

He'd stood at the bottom of the steps, holding a glass of tea and looking at the landing suspiciously. The orange glow ended abruptly on the wall where the ceiling cut across the staircase – it made the second floor seem darker, the shadows thicker. He felt pressure in his ears and suddenly the meager sounds from the gameshop were muffled.

And then it stretched.

The walls crept away from him, the stairs growing long and the landing seeming to climb higher into the house, lengthening the distance between it and Yugi.

It was a trance. One foot slid forward and rose to plant itself on the first step. He felt heavy, his foot covered in cement. His knees were rusted gears and the tea was becoming dry ice in his hand.

The world widened around him.

The empty space was consuming and disturbing and he would have been terrified if not for the stasis keeping his mind locked in place. There was no room for his thoughts to churn – it was moving sleep paralysis.

How could he be claustrophobic in this canyon where the walls climbed forever and the stairs did not end?

He tried to open his mouth, to call for his grandfather – the man was barely 100ft away, cloistered in the game shop on the other side of the door. But no sound left his mouth – his throat was a barren dirt road, and his vocal folds would not vibrate. Only creaking air passed through.

And as for the one who had always been there – the one who could have shaken him from the illusion, talked him out of this strange wormhole. Well, he was not there.

Nobody was there.

Then the glass slipped from nerveless fingers and splattered tea across his feet, and the illusion broke.

That had been the first time he'd allowed himself to cry, crumpling to the first step and holding his head.

Yugi shook his head at the memory, feeling the sick chill crawl from his stomach at the horrible disorientation that still crept into his mind at the thought of that minute on the staircase. He squeezed his eyes shut, turning himself onto his other side, facing away from his room.

Being alone in his mind had never been like this. How could he have known what that hour on that cursed Egyptian dais would bring?

The body beside him shifted and rolled toward him.

Atem's hands reached out and slid over him, laying his body against Yugi's.

How could he have known?

It was the stunned silence at Atem's rebirth, at his quivering, tanned body standing before the firmly sealed door to the afterlife that had lasted through the plane ride to Japan. No one could speak because they could not translate their wonder, their confusion.

Yugi had felt faint because his partner was standing beside him in Domino's airport, there in more substantial measure than he'd ever been before.

And he could not feel him.

Yugi felt his eyes sting and he knew that if he did not change the course of his thoughts, tears would form. He looked over the resting, prone form of his partner, sharing his bed because he had fallen asleep there, talking to the boy about everything and nothing – as he had every night since they'd come home.

Yugi swallowed, expression drawing together in disquiet, brows knit. He wondered at the hands on him that held them together, and finally noticed the disturbance in Atem's own features.

Did he feel it too? The chasm that seemed to stretch between them as they laid less than an inch apart, grasping each other for dear life? Did he feel regret at the empty space where their minds used to fuse, like their bodies now?

He had no right to ask for more than this, when they'd been allowed to keep their friend, to steal him back from the afterlife. This had to be enough – but his throat still seized and his heart still twisted at the barren spot where Atem's mind used to touch his.

Anzu had remarked to him, the day after they'd returned, that this must be better. They were all _really_ together now. They could have both boys at once – now it could be the five of them together, instead of only four plus one spirit observer. Yugi recalled thinking at the time that the blush on Anzu's cheeks was probably not at the thought of _five _people but _two_.

With slow movement that gained more confidence, Yugi reached across Atem to complete the embrace, sliding his head into the impression beside his other's, letting their foreheads nestle together. His fingers curled into Atem's tank top and pulled, desperate, bringing him flush with the other boy. He didn't know how they would explain this intimacy, this hold that belied mere friendship, in the morning. But in the dark, they did not have to. Night time was for diminished inhibitions that rendered reason useless and empowered the satiation of desire. And at this moment, holding Atem was the only thing that made sleep feasible. He could ponder why some other time.

He could not call this 'better'. The ability to touch and feel and experience the world beside Atem rather than _for_ him was not 'better' compared to the yawning emptiness in his mind, the loss of a union that had made his heart so full that he was sure the prophesied outcome of the sacred duel would break it.

It was not 'better' to be able to look upon his face and not _feel_ him, when there was barely space for air between them.

It was only 'different'.

* * *

MY BODY IS A—

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A/N: Thanks for reading! Hopefully it won't be too long until another full-length one-shot :)


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